One Shots | Formula 1

MV☁︎/♥

"I never stopped loving you."

The roar of engines and the scent of gasoline hung heavy in the air as I navigated my way through the Red Bull Racing garage. It was the beginning of the season, and the anticipation was palpable. I took a deep breath, steadying myself for the whirlwind of emotions that awaited me. After all, I was about to come face to face with Max – my ex, my teammate, and the one person I couldn't seem to escape, even if I wanted to.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I quickly retrieved it, grateful for the distraction. The display showed a name that brought a smile to my face – Jake. He was my new flame, someone who made my heart race for all the right reasons. I pressed the answer button, attempting to keep my tone light despite the knots forming in my stomach.

"Hey, babe," I greeted, my voice a careful blend of warmth and casualness.

"Finally, you pick up," Jake's voice crackled through the line, but there was an edge to it that I hadn't expected. "What's taking so long?"

I shot a quick glance around, spotting Max in the corner of my eye, pretending to inspect his helmet. My heart sank as I realized he was listening, eavesdropping on my conversation. This wasn't going to be as easy as I thought.

"Sorry, things are just hectic here," I replied, deliberately raising my voice a bit. "You know how it is with the start of the season."

Jake scoffed on the other end. "Yeah, I bet. Still, you could've made time for a simple phone call. Or maybe you're too busy catching up with Max?"

My eyes widened, and I shot a furtive look at Max, who raised an eyebrow in response. My plan to subtly rattle him seemed to be working, but Jake's unexpected jealousy added a layer of complication I hadn't anticipated.

"Jake, don't be ridiculous," I said, my voice tight. "Max and I are just colleagues now. Nothing more."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a bitter chuckle. "Colleagues, huh? That's a convenient way to put it. I know you better than that."

I gritted my teeth, shooting daggers at Max. This was not going as planned. "Look, Jake, I've got to go. We'll talk later, okay?"

"Sure, later," he snapped, the line going dead with a finality that left me unsettled.

I sighed, staring at my phone for a moment before shoving it back into my pocket. Glancing over at Max, I caught him smirking, clearly reveling in the tension he had stirred. I shot him a glare, determined not to let him see how much he had gotten under my skin.

The race ended in a flurry of cheers, tire smoke, and the flashing lights of cameras. Max emerged victorious, standing atop the podium with a triumphant smile. As the confetti rained down, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of bittersweet pride. I congratulated him, albeit with a forced smile, aware that our professional roles demanded a facade of camaraderie.

In the chaotic aftermath, I found myself trailing behind Max, guiding him through the press circuit. As his social media manager, it was my responsibility to ensure his online presence remained as stellar as his performance on the track. The media scrum was relentless, firing questions at Max from all angles. I observed from the sidelines, orchestrating his responses with finesse.

Amidst the flurry of interviews in Park Fermé, Max caught the subtle shift in my demeanor. His keen eyes locked onto mine, and I saw a flicker of concern beneath the celebratory facade. Determined to lighten the mood, he began answering questions with a playful twist, injecting humor into the serious world of Formula 1.